


It had been

by Shadowdianne



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Longing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 03:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10527678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/pseuds/Shadowdianne
Summary: Because she had known the moment Regina had opened her eyes in the middle of the road and had looked at her with only one thing written on her pupils, something so quick Emma truly doubted the brunette had known until later.--Originally submitted to alwaysswanqueen's blog back at tumblr answering an anon prompt regarding the first time Emma and Regina knew they loved each other.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Beforehand!  
> This is left as an open idea so even if this does not end with them actually together it's not important but rather how they knew they fell in love. So even if I wouldn't consider this angst I could say that it's slightly angsty? Just a small heads up just in case!

(Regina)

It was her eyes what made her pause, her green eyes that shone like embers as they, defiant, looked back at her whenever she tried to do something Emma considered to not be right. She had despised her eyes back when they had first met, thought they held hate and even pity the times she had tried to make her see that Henry was hers and only hers. She had come to be able to describe their hue and the way they flashed whenever the blonde was angered but she had told herself time and again that she only knew that as a way of protection, of preventing herself from falling and burning; and so, she stared at Emma back with -hopefully- the same anger and fire, with the same resentment, she was subjected from Henry every single day.

It was her eyes, however, what made her start looking at Emma’s mouth and arms, at the way the blonde moved her whole torso when angry and how her mouth formed a straight, pressed line, whenever she was worried, wrinkles around those damned eyes and a far-away look that glazed them. It was that what made her notice how the blonde seemed to always be fidgeting, to always need to be playing with something once she made it into the sheriff station, first as deputy, later as sheriff. She always seemed in need to be with a pencil even if she didn’t write with it, a pen, a paperclip. She also realized that, as time passed, as magic became a secret that rather than only knowing about it were herself and Gold it was a shared secret by everyone in town, the fidgeting disappeared and transformed into the blonde crossing her arms over her chest, trying to figure out what new thing she would need to know in order to keep been the so-called savior.

(At those moments, at that time, she still pretended to hate her even if the fire and resentment had mostly vanished by then, replaced by sadness and longing every time she saw Henry with her.)

It was still her eyes what transfixed her when, once at Neverland, Emma had referred to her as something else than just the enemy and her own voice had almost broken when she had taken a step towards her, trying to understand what meant, what it meant, to suddenly realize that she could understand the secrets waiting behind those green eyes that became darker every time the word “lost boy” was uttered. It was still her eyes what made her answer Peter Pan with nothing but the truth about how she would never regret a thing about what had made her use the curse, a single, sparse, minute, speck of “but” hidden between those words. It was her eyes, open and lighter now, brimming with magic, a kind of magic she felt around her own even when she tried her damnest to be away from the blonde. It was her eyes what made her think “But I would have behaved differently with Emma Swan” what gave her the final impulse.

The impulse she soon discovered that hadn’t been final and it was necessary to make a decision about not only Storybrooke but, also, Henry.

It had been when she had first wanted to hug the blonde, not doing it after, almost crying, almost brokenly, she had told her that yes, she would grant them new memories, new beginnings, a new future. It had been later that night, already in the middle of the forest, already feeling her heart on the palm of her hand, when she had thought back to those green eyes, to that fiery stare, to that strong jawline and had realized why she felt that way.

After that she had seen that same fire crawl and disappear, replaced with a weight that turned the blonde into a woman she hadn’t been, into a woman that folded to the whims of a man that didn’t deserve it. It had been painful, it had been… wrong. Wrong and twisted in the same way she had decided to walk away and protect her own heart with a man she knew that wasn’t for her the moment she looked at that lion tattoo that was nothing but the crumbs of a future she could have had but hadn’t many years ago.

She had felt her voice breaking when Emma had pointed the gun at Lily, the knowledge that, perhaps, she hadn’t been able to quench her heart as well as she would have liked. She had felt her throat tight and uncomfortable the moment Emma had looked at her, lost and tearful and had stabbed the darkness just because. It had been that moment when she had known that she was completely in love with the woman that had been preserved to destroy her.

It had been then when she had known that there was no going back and for Emma she bled and fought while trying to disentangle herself from a future she had thought would be enough but suddenly it wasn’t while looking at Emma fail time and again for a pirate that, still, didn’t deserve it.

At the end, however, she always would say that it had been her eyes.

(Emma)

It had been her voice, her voice and the way she always looked on the brink of falling, always saying so much with nothing but the snarl on her mouth and the fire on her pupils, fire that had licked her hands, burning them while making her want to understand her better. It had been the way she had transformed from soft to hard the first night they had seen each other, glass of cider between her hands and tension between them. It had been the way she had broken down when Henry had told her that she wasn’t her mother. It had been the defiant look when she had come to her back at the station, righteous fury and a thousand of secrets jumping from her pupils, oozing out of them while pretending that everything was right and nothing was already shaking. It had been the way she had hugged Henry time and again, wanting to show him how she truly loved him even as Emma started to doubt how good or how bad the brunette truly was.

It had been her plea back at the mines, a plea that she had heard again but with a few words changed the moment she had stepped out the damned well with Cora’s magic still buzzing on her skin and just a smile and a peace offering that had transformed into something else the moment she had run to her, trying to catch her up, ask her to go back inside where Archie was still about to cut pie. It had been the way Regina had taken a step towards her, a soft “sorry” on her lips and something else there, something she had tried to understand that very same night while staring at the ceiling and seeing Regina still looking at her, outside Granny’s with a look of something else that she didn’t quite know what it was. It had been her own fury later that week when she had screamed at her how Henry was her son and the way Regina had stared back with nothing but hopelessness and loss. It had been the way she had always backed her up back at Neverland and the way she had opened her eyes at Storybrooke whispering Emma while clutching a piece of parchment that would told them to leave everyone behind while feeling the edges of her eyes burning and just the need to turn back until there hadn’t been anything to turn back to.

It had been the way she had whispered Henry’s name one year later, almost walking to them but not doing so and understanding and listening to her plan as everything else seemed about to fall down, trusting, always trusting her.

She had wondered why her heart ached and longed and why she wished for her fingers to graze the brunette’s wrist back at the woman’s office. She had known why slightly later, when Zelena had hit her with a wave of magic Emma thought that should have been for her and her alone. It had been the way Regina pretended to be all right with her voice strained and magic cracking between the edges that the pain created. It had been the way Regina had hold her own stare, a hidden call suddenly becoming obvious, scaring Emma and making her realize why, why it hurt seeing her heart in the hands of someone else.

It had been the warm touch back when Ursula and Cruella had been at the town line, when Regina had squeezed her arm once, the chernabog’s dust still clouding the air. It had been the way Emma had felt her body react to it as if starved, it had been the time when Regina had admitted she needed her, she wanted her. It had been the road trip when nothing else but the other woman had mattered, when Robin had looked at the brunette with nothing but the same loss Emma felt every single day, still afraid, still not knowing what to say.

It had been the darkness that had surrounded Regina and the way she had accepted it, as another punishment for someone she had been but wasn’t anymore. It had been her plea, jagged and loud on her ears as she felt the darkness filling her up before disappearing from Storybrooke’s road. It had been the many times she had tried to make her face the truth back at Camelot, the painful, exquisite way she had looked while dancing and  how broken she had been when Robin had been wounded, a flash of worry, of doubt, of… something Emma realized she would never take away from her, would never make her choose between a man that was prophesized to be her soulmate and her. A broken savior, a soon-to-be dark one.

Because Emma… she had known.

It had been the way the brunette’s lips formed her name, curling around the “m”. It had been the look of utter betrayal once back at Storybrooke when lies had started to pile up, it had been when she had seen Hook fall into Hell and Regina had agreed to go with them while still seeming to be holding something inside.

And Emma knew, she knew, that she would never be able to make Regina choose.

Because she had known the moment Regina had opened her eyes in the middle of the road and had looked at her with only one thing written on her pupils, something so quick Emma truly doubted the brunette had known until later.

So perhaps it hadn’t been her voice. But her eyes.

Her eyes…

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are the best! ;)


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